There’s a guy in our office who sits near my bitch Chad out in the non-restricted area of the ninth floor who sings when he talks. I mean, not every word or anything, but the guy sings when he should speak. Every time I see this guy in the hall or in an elevator or wherever, he sings his salutations. He’s like a one-man Glee Club.
I have a presentation at two for the steering committee, and I have this snazzy hand-out that I whipped up in Publisher that I’m passing out to everybody. I need Chad to run off a couple dozen color copies so I walk out to his desk to give him a disc with the file on it.
Singing Guy is leaning against Chad’s desk with a cup of coffee in his hand. So as not to be a dick, I say hi as I walk up.
Singing Guy literally sings, “Good morn-innnng!”
I look at him and managed a pained smile. “You have a good weekend?” I ask.
“Soooper, soooper,” he says lyrically. It sounds like he’s about to bust out in some Gilbert & Sullivan number. “Got some golfin’ in, never bad, never bad…” He pantomimes swinging a golf club as he sings.
“Right on,” I say unenthusiastically, then turn to Chad. I don’t want to encourage Singing Guy by feeding him anymore questions.
I give Chad the disc and some brief instructions, then excuse myself. “See you later.”
“Have a good one!” Singing Guy sings.
Briefly I consider punching his jaw clean off his face. I could, you know.
It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.
June 14, 2005
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7 comments:
I like to kick would-be rapists in the 'nads. But that's my funny way of saying to my city that I don't particularly like its people. Or, er... I don't wish to talk about this now.
Good to have you back, VM.
Faceless henchwoman is like a little devil on my shoulder, whispering in my friggin' ear!
C'mon now, that's not how superheroes behave. What would Aquaman think if he were here now? Singing Guy is obviously a supervillain who is trying to drive you insane and/or get you to reveal your secret identity. Fight fire with fire. Try humming tunelessly while gutting fish on his desk.
HA! No I think Verity Kindle is the devil on the shoulder: dressed like an angle, her advice is sweet, sweet, evil!!
good on you Verity! We need more like you amongst our ranks.... now i gotta get back to those begonias..
Bwah Ha Ha...
*absently kneeding hands while pondering the evil*
Hey! I have that same outfit!
Though when I wear it, everybody stares.
Not in a good way, either.
Stupid predefined gender roles...
Briefly I consider punching his jaw clean off his face. I could, you know.
You've been reading Cla$$war, haven't you?
Glad you're back.
The singing gut is just a stupid fucking mormon...
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